Christian Parkinson's playboy lifestyle has taken an interesting turn when he met the sharp and witty Kylie Preston. She has something in her that other women lack - the guts to call him on his bullshit.
She's not the type he dates but Christian fin...
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Kylie
An appreciative sigh streams through my nose at the pleasure of the perfect meal I just had. Christian has taken me to his brother, Andrei's restaurant, dangling the word pasta so I won't turn back around and change my mind. I was hoping I wasn't giving away my weakness for pasta dishes. But by the smug 'I just cracked the code' look on his face, my chances are a point zero.
"I told you the company will grow on you." Christian winks from across the table.
I leaned back on my chair. "My pesto was great. The company? Not so much."
"Well, that can't really hurt me. You're still sitting here with me, and I consider it a win-win."
"How is this a win-win? This doesn't feel like a win to me."
"Did I say the other win was yours?" He rests his elbow on the table, head dipping to one side and the killer smile sealing the deal. But it was definitely the set of baby blue eyes that did it. While the smile was leaning to the devilish side, the eyes – they're pure heaven.
I broke eye contact, frowning at the thought. "Can we go now?"
"No. Ten minutes."
I rolled my eyes. "What are we going to do?"
"Just talk."
"You paid for my food because you want me to talk? About what?" I cross my leg over the other and pushed my plate aside.
Christian shrugged. "Technically, I'm not paying."
"Wait, you're not? So, I am?"
He chuckles. "I only meant I'm allowed not to pay because this is my brother's restaurant."
"So, this is how you stay rich while taking half the town to dinners."
His mouth parted in mock affront. "I beg to differ."
A smile crept up to my face.
"I don't do dates here. This place is personal." He stretched his arms to his sides. "Like I said, it's Andrei's restaurant. Besides, if I tell you I'm asking you out, you will gouge my eyes out."
"But isn't dating personal?" I blink, flustered at his blatant mention of asking me out.
"It doesn't have to be."
"How would you know?"
His brow twitched. "And how would you know?"
I shot up a hand. "Drop it."
"You never gone out on a date?" His eyes rounded to a size of saucers. "What have you been doing with your life?"
"Working," I answered flatly. "Not everyone has the privilege to be irresponsible."
